Party of the Year
by lyo24boi
Summary: A Briam oneshot, Liam and Stiles attend Lydia's birthday party to drink away their sorrows from their breakups. Beacon Hills students aren't the only ones that showed up.


**| PARTY OF THE YEAR |**

Liam Dunbar looked into his mirror, his hair wet, a towel around his waist. He was trying to figure out how he wanted his hair: slick comb to the right or gelled forward with a spike. He hated this part of getting ready, especially when he was under pressure. Liam looked down at the time on his phone and frowned. He recalled Lydia's words just earlier that week after confirming that he was coming. _'I've seen the way you dress for the club. That…whatever you call that…that won't be coming to my party. I'm having a dress code this year.'_ For ease's sake, he picked up his gel, rubbed some light amount through his hands, gave his hair a quick through, and picked up his comb. _Screw it_. He combed his hair to the right, made another face, and walked back out into his room to change—into something with buttons of course.

Another 15 minutes passed and Liam walked downstairs, his mother waiting for him. She kissed him, told him to be safe, to say hi to Mason, and of course to try to have a good time. Another kiss and the familiar horn of Roscoe the jeep reached their ears. Liam made his exit and found Stiles out front. When he got inside his ride, the beta muttered something about a dress code after seeing the other boy. Not one to leave an opening untaken, Stiles retorted something about getting another ride.

They had an agreement: they would arrive fashionably late and, if fun just wasn't on the menu, they'd leave around ten. So when they arrived, everyone was there. "Are you gonna' be alright?" Stiles asked once they were out of the car.

"Yeah," Liam replied. "Why?"

"Hayden?"

Liam frowned. "Are you gonna' be okay seeing Malia?"

"No. But _I_ can get drunk," Smiles said with a sly smile before leading them in.

"Being a werewolf sucks," Liam muttered, instantly finding his nose overwhelmed by alcohol, sweat, and sex when they walked through the front door. There was no one there to greet them, no one familiar at least. The Martins' house was filled with mostly unfamiliars, all either drinking, dancing, or finding somewhere to get off. The pair walked further into the residence, the first of their pack coming into view seated on one of the living room sofas. Corey was in Mason's lap, the latter of who was pressed as far back, even sinking into the cushions as he could go. Their mouths were connected and Corey's shirt was threatening to be lost pretty soon.

Liam smirked as he and Stiles passed them. Lydia was in the kitchen, keeping a very enamored Jordan Parrish entertained while she made some mixed drinks. "Finally," she said, seeing the pair and walking over to them. A hug each, she forced a bottle into Stiles' chest for him to take. "My makeshift bartender bailed. I need six glasses with that."

"What happened to the punch?" Stiles said as he unscrewed the cap.

"It's out by the pool," she said, feigning offense. "What kind of party do you think this is?"

"The party of the year?" Liam chimed in, providing his best innocent 'I-didn't-do-it' smile.

"See, he gets it," Lydia said with a smile, returning to making a number of different drinks, even adding stuff to four of the six glasses that Stiles had poured.

"Why didn't you just ask him for help?" Stiles said, motioning towards a smirking Parrish, eyes squinting and mouth open.

"He's my guest."

"And what're we—"

"C'mon, Stiles," Liam said, pulling the senior by his sleeve away from the kitchen.

They found themselves walking past what was usually the dining room only now was turned into a blacklight room. It was filled with bodies, visible only from their paint and illuminated clothing and the room was clearly the focal point of the music streaming throughout the house. Liam noted a subtle yet familiar scent coming from it—two if he cared to actually note the second: Hayden and Malia were in there. His mood immediately dampened, the emotions surrounding why he and Stiles had made their agreement, and rode together in the first place, coming to the fore.

Liam followed Stiles, more so sauntered to the back where the pool was, the latter boy none the wiser. In a short line to get punch they found Scott and Kira, holding hands and nauseatingly in puppy love. "You made it!" Scott exclaimed, stepping away from the kitsune to embrace his best friend. He then made a face at Liam before pulling him in and whispered, "Chin up."

Stiles and Liam got in line behind the couple and Stiles leaned forward. "It's not laced with wolfsbane, right?"

"Wait what?" Liam said, startled.

"It's not, right?" Kira said, now concerned as well.

Scott made a face at Stiles. "It's Lydia. She wouldn't do that." The 'again' clearly lingering. Stiles made his own face now, one of pure astonishment. "Stop worrying them."

"Hey, we don't know if Peter still has his claws in her," Stiles said, this time making no effort to whisper. "And I actually didn't have to use that phrase figuratively for once."

"Scott, what is he talking about?" Liam said.

"See," Scott said, finally to the point where he could make a drink for himself and Kira. "Look, it's a long story—"

"Not that long," Stiles chimed.

"—and one that will definitely kill the mood. There's no wolfsbane," he said, annunciating with a sniff of the drink, "I promise." He lightly grabbed Liam's shoulder to reassure him, only to head back inside with Kira (although not before giving Stiles a glare).

Stiles dipped the clear serving spoon in the orange liquid-filled bowl and poured it into a clear plastic cup. "If you start sweating and seeing something weird, or traumatizing, maybe a mean hallucination, don't worry, you're tripping and it'll wear off in a few hours." He slapped Liam's arm and walked off over to the side of the pool. Liam frowned even more, now extremely wary of the otherwise enticing punch before him. Running through a mental calculation, he took the gamble and poured himself some.

Liam turned around, deciding to stick with Stiles when a couple girls with painted faces walked passed him towards the human. One of them, clearly high on endorphins, smashed her lips to Stiles.' The boy almost spilled his drink but met the gesture eagerly. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards the inside, presumably towards the blacklight room or maybe even a couch. Stiles only made a face at Liam, one of awkward excitement before disappearing. The other girl, clearly showing no interest, as well as signs of exhaustion and a possible hangover, plopped down onto one of the outdoor sofas and just breathed.

Seeing everyone else outside preoccupied, Liam sighed and walked over to the edge of the pool. He took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his 'dress jeans,' and put his feet in. He took a sip of the punch and, after his own thoughts started to dampen his mood, he downed the rest in one gulp. And then he was torn: stay comfortable by the pool or get up and hope that the punch is laced with something so he can get drunk.

In the end Liam just sat, swishing his feet in the water. His brain couldn't help itself; catching that whiff of Hayden's scent screwed everything up. The fight replayed on a reel in his head. They'd been out with her sister, Valerie treating being part of the deal for having dinner with her. It had started with simply getting his order wrong. He had handled it well, tried to be polite and not make a fuss. But the undertow had swelled. The toddler that was allowed to run around the restaurant by _those type_ of parents had started eating at him. The noise. The movement. The clang when the child had knocked into a nearby chair several times, causing the legs to scrape against the floor every time. And then the movement of the woman behind him on the other side of the booth, talking to her husband about the most inane gossip at a volume far unnecessary and disruptive for the setting and the atmosphere. Hayden could sense it. He could see it in her expression, feel it when she gripped his thigh in attempt to comfort him.

But it had been when they got out in the parking lot. Hayden had kissed and hugged her sister goodbye, the deputy giving Liam an awkward hug before walking away towards her car. And then he'd seen them. Two boys, older than him, taller than him. They'd whistled at Hayden, taunted her, sizing her up and Liam smelled it. It was only one of them. Arousal. But wrong—threatening. The dial broke inside him and he went off. They'd taunted him, too, as he otherwise stomped towards them. But the sucker punch he'd thrown to the menacing boy changed everything. The boy had fallen to the concrete and Liam was on top of him, wailing into his face. Liam was lost, his infatuation, natural jealousy, and IED all converging to create a perfect storm. He didn't hear the deputy yelling at him. Didn't notice when he'd pushed back on the other boy to make him fall on his ass. Didn't notice until it was too late when he'd roared back at Hayden, who'd simply pulled at his shoulder. The terror in her face. The gun directed at his person. He felt his eyes return to normal, his fangs recede, his claws draw out from being lodged inside his palms to allow them to drip blood.

Hayden being Hayden, she had stepped between Liam and her sister, forcing the latter to eventually holster her personal firearm. Liam had gotten to his feet and tried to step towards them. But Hayden had withdrawn. The boy on his back stirred, even tried to sit up. His friend had helped him—his broken nose was the worst of it somehow. His buddy helped him to his feet and they ran, fast; the only silver lining was that Liam's wolfing out prevented the boy from pressing charges. Hayden gave Liam one last look, fear and sadness and anger all readable on her face, let alone her signals. Valerie had ushered her towards her car, their date night cut short, their date night ending as _shittily_ as it could (without going to extremes, of course). The following morning, Liam had awoken to one text.

/ I need a break. I can't do this, for a while at least. You need help. Talk to Scott, or somebody. /

Liam had broken his phone that day, throwing it impossibly hard against the wall on the other side of the room.

That was two weeks ago.

Liam closed his eyes, realizing he'd been looking down into the water at yellow beta eyes. He let his head fall back, leaning back onto outstretched arms. He told himself Satomi's mantra. He breathed. He remembered Scott's alpha voice, one that spoke control and comfort and peace all in one. And then a drink was being pushed at him, in his lap. He clambered to grab it before a tall body plopped down next to him, their own bare feet and ankles sliding into the water next to his. Liam looked up to see a teeth-grinning Brett.

"Hey short stuff," the taller beta said, toasting Liam's cup before taking a sip of his punch, not once taking his eyes off Liam's.

The shorter boy blinked. And then again. "What're you doing here?"

"It's a party. I'm having fun."

Stiles' words dawned on him—was there actually wolfsbane in the punch? _Again?_ He felt his forehead. No sweat. He leaned forward and splashed some pool water on his face. Brett was still there, now looking at him with a weird grin. "What're you doing _here_ , Brett?"

"Somebody at Devenford knows somebody who knows somebody who," Brett took an annunciated breath, "knows somebody who knows Lydia. And that first somebody invited the lacrosse team. So presto: I'm here."

"The team is here?" Liam's anxiety immediately spiked. He looked around the backyard, noting that, indeed, some of the team was here. Darren, the goalie—and not one of his bullies thankfully—was sitting in a corner chair with a girl on his lap, talking and drinking and laughing.

"Lighten up, dude. Have some fun. Get laid."

Liam looked back at Brett. His words had been… _off_. The inflections, the drawn out syllables. And when Liam looked closely, into Brett's eyes, he noticed that his pupils were dilated. _He's on something_.

"Speaking of laid…where's your girl anyway? Hayden?"

Liam frowned, reddened from a tinge of anger mixed with embarrassment: his failure was not something he wanted to share, let alone with his rival. "We're not…" Brett didn't respond, just took the last sip of his drink. Robbie and Stan came into view; now they had been two of Liam's bullies after the 'car-incident.' Liam swore under his breath and looked away, towards the corner even away from Brett.

"Don't worry about them."

"Thought you were friends with 'em," Liam shot.

"A lot can happen in a year."

Liam snorted incredulously. "Yeah, like what?"

Liam saw Brett shrug in the corner of his eye. He didn't answer. They just sat and Liam did his damnedest to control his hearing—Robbie and Stan were definitely talking shit from the far side of the pool. Scott trained him well, though; he didn't hear a thing.

After a moment, Liam felt Brett's feet knock into his own. With scrunched brows he looked at the Buddhist werewolf and Brett just smirked before leaning over and knocking his shoulders against Liam's. "Just smile," Brett said when Liam just looked at him. "You can choose not to be a buzzkill, y'know." Liam looked back across the pool and glared at his former teammates before returning to gaze into 'his' corner. "Get up."

"What?" he said, watching Brett stand.

"Get up." Brett leaned down and lifted Liam by his underarms. 

"What're you—"

"Wanna' dance." It was a statement. Directed at him. Liam's face went blank. Brett walked away, grabbing a towel to dry his feet. Liam just watched, dumbfounded. Was it _actually_ directed at him?

And then a towel hit him in the face. Brett was already putting his socks on and Liam proceeded to dry his feet. He sat back down and tried to be thorough, hating the feeling of damp socks on his feet. Brett walked over to him and, once the shorter boy's shoes were on, a hand appeared in front of him. Liam took it and got to his feet. Brett just looked at him, down at him, that stupid smirk always there. "What?" Liam said, the awkwardness not even having a chance to set in.

"Coming?" Brett winked and started heading back inside. For some subliminal reason, Liam's feet forced him to follow.

They stopped in front of the blacklight room. He could see—just barely—the back of Hayden's head, and just beyond it Malia's face. The werecoyote had never gotten back together with Stiles after the incident with the Dread Doctors and the Beast. They still wanted each other; it was obvious to anyone who could see, let alone sense beyond human capabilities. But the rift was still there and tonight Hayden and Malia were having one of those 'girls'-night-bff-couple' things.

Once again, a hand was placed before him. "Wanna' dance?" Brett asked. That smirk. Liam made a face at him, his eyebrow shifting upward. "If two girls can dance," Brett said, motioning towards the supernatural girls, "why can't two guys?" Liam just shrugged, rolling his eyes and looking away, arms crossed. So Brett did one thing he could do. Using his height advantage and strength, he pushed Liam by his shoulders. Liam didn't fight him and quickly the taller boy was waddling the shorter boy deeper into the room.

When they stopped, Liam turned around. They looked at each other and Brett started moving. Liam just stood there and watched Brett dance in front of him, feeling his mood actually shift for the better. He couldn't deny it: as awkward as this was, it was funny and amusing in all the right ways. But then he felt hands on his waist, hands that pulled him forward, closer. His belt touched Brett's jeans and Liam looked up. That damn smirk was wide, teeth-showing wide, and Brett just swayed, leading Liam with him.

So Liam gave in. He placed his hands awkwardly on Brett's waist. And they danced. The beat forced itself into them. The moment forced Liam to lose everything for just long enough. His eyes were closed, trying to feel it all blow through him. He smiled. For the first time that night a genuine smile tugged and he let it. And that's when he felt the skin of Brett's forehead touch his own. He opened his eyes to see Brett's staring into his own.

"I should be honest, my intentions aren't all that innocent. I don't _just_ wanna' dance." His eyes flashed yellow, coaxing Liam's to do the same. When Liam's mouth just fell open, Brett moved his hands from his waist to cup his ass. "What're you into, Liam?"

Liam didn't answer.

"Girls?"

Liam nodded against his forehead.

"Guys?"

Liam shook his head.

Brett just smiled. The song changed and they didn't stop. Brett kept them together and Liam not only didn't make any attempts to leave, he stayed. He felt the music. Felt the mood of the room. The signals coming off of everyone around them. He felt Brett, before him, around him. He closed his eyes and breathed in, taking it all in, taking him in.

"Can I kiss you?" Liam heard.

Liam gave a slight nod.

Soft lips touched his own. A firm press, wet enough to make their tender movement just perfect. A gasp from the shorter boy left him longing when Brett pulled away, their noses still touching, air from their breath ghosting lightly over their lips. There was a heckle from the background, shitty in its attempt to pull them out. But Brett only smiled against Liam's lips. "Ignore them, they're assholes," Brett said. Liam nodded and pushed in to kiss him again. It was just as short and once again they parted, leaving their noses together. _Eskimo dancing_.

"Can we go somewhere?" Brett eventually asked.

Liam nodded rather eagerly and they were about out of the room in seconds when Liam stopped him. "One thing." Brett's eyebrow raised. "I wanna' feel whatever you're feeling." Brett took a second to comprehend but then just smiled. He dug his hand into his pocket and retrieved a tiny round pill in plastic. He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. Liam smirked and met him halfway, allowing Brett's tongue to slip into his mouth when they kissed, feeling the pill slide between them.

/ | * ! * | \

There was a muffled voice calling Liam's name. It normally would have registered, but the boy in front of him was all that mattered. Brett had him up against a long dresser, one hand steadying himself on its edge and the other down the back of Liam's jeans, boxers still preventing skin-on-skin. Liam had his hands on Brett's pecs, kneading them, groping them like breasts. Their mouths were ravenous, neither able to tear away from the other to go to the other's neck or anywhere else as they just couldn't get away from each other.

One of the only breaks in their assault was when Liam yelped, the squeeze on his globe also moving such that a finger stroked his entrance through his boxers. The hand retreated long enough to slip under his boxers, grabbing firm onto his sweaty mound. Brett ate the next cry with his mouth when the door a few feet away opened. Stiles had barged in, smirking immediately. He motioned for them to leave, his thumb over his shoulder. Brett turned to look at the human, Liam's forehead falling against Brett's chest.

"I'll take him home."

"Liam?" Stiles said, confirming. Liam simply nodded and Stiles, with a smile, gave them a look over before tucking back out, the light from the hallway leaving with him.

Liam looked up at Brett, the skin surrounding both of their mouths and their chins quite wet. "You're gonna' take me home?"

"I will," Brett said. "Later…after I…yeah." He stopped and saw the want and hope in Liam's face. "And look, I, I'm not just saying this 'cuz I'm high, but I like you. I have for a while—" Liam smashed their lips together, one of his hands having found their way to the back of Brett's sweaty neck. And it began again.


End file.
